


A Lack of Color

by PouringRain



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: AU, M/M, bennoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PouringRain/pseuds/PouringRain
Summary: [Bennoda - AU] Chester had always had everything he needed, everything he wanted. And still his world was grey and dull. Until he meets Mike. Because Mike is different. Mike can see the colors of the sky, he can hear the birds sing. (Bennoda, Romance, Drama, AU) - CHAPTER ONE up





	1. The Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story six years ago, and originally posted in on lpfiction (http://lpfiction.com/story.php?id=15550).  
> After what happened six weeks ago, I came back to read some of my favorite stories and decided to finish this one.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!!

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.  
He was swallowed almost perfectly by his inconspicuousness, none of the people walking by even noticed him. 

They were all trapped in their own little worlds, just like him.   
They were too caught up in their own problems, too consumed with their own priorities.   
None of them were willing to escape their self-made reality long enough to acknowledge the young man that stared into space, his face blank. 

If just one of them had felt more than indifference towards the blonde, they would have noticed how unusually still he was, how strangely apathetic the look on his pretty face was. They would have noticed how long he had been sitting motionlessly on that old bench in a park in the heart of the city of angels.

But no one took the time, no one seemed to want to give their attention to this extraordinary boy. All of them had enough worries as it was. 

 

The young man, too, did not try to start a conversation.   
Why would he? What was the point? Why would he want to talk to one of them?  
They were all the same; a gray crowd of faceless ghosts to him.   
He didn't know them, he would never be a part of their lives. 

If one of the passers-by were to stop and look at the young man, the first thing they'd notice would be the unusually pale skin tone.  
Even in the hottest summer, his skin was pearly white and almost translucent.  
He also had an unusually slim and feminine build; his big, black hoodie seemed to swallow him.  
He seemed so small and fragile; as if the next gust of wind could lift him up and carry him away.

If one of the passers-by were to inspect Chester's clothing; the ripped jeans and big, worn-out hooded jacket that hid his skinny frame too well, they would probably assume he was poor.   
They'd think he didn't have parents that supported him, and no money to buy proper clothing.

All the conclusions that the passer-by would draw from Chester's appearance, though, were wrong.

He did have parents that supported him. With money.   
Yes, Chester had money. A lot of money.  
And he had always had everything he needed.

His parents worked too much; but they loved their son dearly.  
So ever since he learned how to crawl, they bought him everything his young heart desired.   
And although his parents were highly intelligent people, they never understood the essential part of their upbringing.   
They never understood that their definition of love had isolated Chester and hollowed him out.

Because they were never around. Chester was always by himself.  
Surrounded by the newest game boys, computer games and cell phones, but by himself nonetheless.  
He had one of the best private teachers that one could hire for money. And even as a baby he had had a nanny that had to anticipate his every wish.  
His parents loved him and therefore he had everything.  
Everything but the emotional warmth he needed, that is.

And the older he got, the bigger got the yearning for the only thing that Chester ever was deprived of.

He had never joined a sports team, never even attended a public school.   
He had never had a person that he would call a friend. Someone that you could call in the middle of the night when you weren't feeling well. Someone that would be over at your house in less than ten minutes to wrap you in their comforting arms. Someone you could confide in. Someone that would tell you all their secrets in return.  
At least that was how Chester pictured a true friendship.  
Magical, beautiful.  
Something he had never had and probably never would have.

He didn't know how to make friends. He didn't know how to socially interact with people.  
The only person he had ever spent a lot of time with was his nanny, and she had to like him – after all, she was paid to.

Of course, Chester pretended to get along.  
But when he was honest with himself he had to admit that his heart was longing for a friend.   
He yearned for a person that was important to him. He didn't even dare think about a romantic relationship. He didn't seem to deserve that much bliss.

With his twenty-two years, he had never been in love.  
He wondered what love felt like. Romantic love.  
Would he really feel butterflies in his stomach, the day that he finally fell in love?  
Deep in his heart, he had long since admitted to himself that he longed for that day more than anything.

 

With every week that went by, he became more and more hopeless that that day would ever come.  
The more hopeless he got, the more brooding he got, more pensive.  
He left the expensive gifts untouched and spent hours sitting on his window sill, watching the people down on the street.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to switch with one of them; just for a day.  
Sometimes he wished he could read their minds.  
Sometimes he focused his gaze on a particularly stressed or relaxed looking person and caught himself making up stories involving them.  
Maybe he did that because he was bored, and maybe he secretly wished to be one of them.

 

The only attempt he ever had made to break out of this daily routine was a year ago. He started getting tattoos. His arms and parts of his back and chest were now decorated with ink.  
His last tattoos; red and blue flames that licked up along his forearms and started on his wrists were done four months ago.   
Then he gave up.  
What was the point of looking different from everyone else?

When Chester was young, he wanted to become a doctor. A doctor or a musician.  
But what was the point?  
What was the point of Chester's exceptionally beautiful voice when he had no one to acknowledge it? No one to pat his back encouragingly and congratulate him when he managed to hold a note for a very long time?

 

Yeah, what was the point.   
That was a question asked himself quite often these days.  
He didn't see a point in writing, singing or studying.  
Not while he felt so empty inside, so isolated from the people around him. 

His parents thought Chester was going through some kind of premature midlife-crisis.   
So they bought him an awfully expensive apartment in the heart of Los Angeles.  
Now he came to the park closest to his apartment to look at people every day.  
Sometimes for hours.

People like that woman that was currently rushing through the park with a twin stroller and two squealing and crying toddlers. Chester wondered if she was happy. If her childrens' love made up for all the stress they were causing her, or if she regretted her decisions sometimes...

 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

A soft, slightly husky voice brought Chester back to reality.

He tensed, but didn't try to turn around and look at the man that sat down when Chester shook his head.

He kept staring at the people rushing by, but perked up his ears when the man started humming quietly and then sighed contently.   
He couldn't be a lot older than Chester.

“What a beautiful day, isn't it?”, he heard the voice again.  
When Chester didn't answer, the young man started scraping his feet, getting up slowly.   
“Goodbye”, he said and Chester could hear the smile on his lips.

 

The blonde didn't know why, but while he listened to the sound of the other man's footsteps growing quieter and quieter, he was sure that they would see each other again.


	2. As Seasons Come and Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is chapter two!
> 
> @Stefuh: Thank you so much for reviewing! It makes me so happy that other people acutally like my story, too :) ♥  
> @Masanjes: I'm soo glad you like this story, enough to re-read it even!! I made some slight changes because my English is a little better now, but it's the same otherwise ♥
> 
> Hope you enjoy, let me know!

Chapter 2 – As Seasons Come and Go

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.

He had been coming here for a week now; always at the same time.   
Thirty minutes later, the young man with the pleasant voice sat down next to him.

Neither of them were late, ever.   
Neither of them even thought about the other not being there, they just knew it wouldn't happen.  
Chester just knew that when he sat down on the park bench, he would hear that unknown young man's beautiful, deep voice thirty minutes later.  
The other man knew that he would find the blonde boy, sitting on the park bench forty feet from the entrance, when he entered it.

What was peculiar about these meetings was that they never actually talked to each other, Chester hadn't even looked at the other man, and still they felt like they could read each others' minds, like they lived in a symbiosis. 

And at some point, Chester had to admit to himself that he seemed to only live for these few minutes in the park.  
These few minutes in which the other man greeted him, received no answer, made some insignificant comment about the weather, said good bye and left, the smile always apparent on his lips.  
The other man seemed to be radiating happiness like he was radioactive.   
Chester felt safe when he sat next to him, less lonely. 

During the day, the other man's voice echoed in Chester's head; at night he dreamed of faceless figures. They rushed by, not noticing him. Chester stood by himself and felt lost in the crowd of people that surrounded him, until one of them stopped and held his hand out.  
And then that soft, familiar voice whispered, “Come with me.”  
But when the Chester in the dream recognized it, he shook his head, turned his back on the other man, and walked into the dark by himself.

This dream terrorized him every night. Of course it wasn't a real nightmare, not technically. He wasn't chased by an ax murderer, threatened, or gruesomely killed by a psychopath.   
But every morning, he woke up feeling lonely and depressed. The worse those dreams got, the more Chester took refuge in the thoughts of the other man.

He had to ask himself, however, whether the real situation with the other one wasn't the same as the one in his dreams? He turned away from the other man, away from the hand he held out to him. He didn't talk to him, didn't even look at him.   
He avoided the social contact that seemed more than desired by the other person. Chester couldn't even consciously explain why he shied away from interacting with the other man.  
Maybe he didn't want to destroy the magic, his illusions? Maybe he didn't want to risk losing what they already had by moving forward? 

As time passed, however, the depressing feeling that took hold of Chester's heart as soon as he awoke in the morning and didn't quite leave until the exhausted, young man fell back asleep became unbearable, and Chester realized that he couldn't turn the other man's hand away any longer.

 

 

When he heard the other one's footsteps – he could tell them apart from all the others – come closer, he tried to prepare himself for what was to come.   
He didn't quite understand why he was afraid of such a trivial situation.   
Well, probably because situations like that weren't all that trivial for Chester.

The other one sat down next to the blonde.   
“Hello”, he grinned, and Chester could feel radiating warmth spread through his limps. 

 

“Hello”, he answered simply. His voice was low and weak, probably because he didn't use it very often.

 

In his mind, he pictured the other man pausing, taken aback. Was he happy about the fact that Chester recognized him? That he was well aware of the person that gave him a few minutes of bliss every day?

 

Chester still didn't look at the other man. He didn't answer either when the other one asked what he thought about today's weather.  
But instead of feeling rejected, he just chuckled.

“I'll see you tomorrow!”, the young man said smiling and disappeared int the crowd of people.

 

The following days were the same.  
The young man sat down next to Chester, greeted him, Chester answered, the young man asked a question, didn't get a reply and left with a smile.

 

Chester's dreams changed every-so-slightly. He still felt helpless in that faceless crowd, but when the young man showed up and held out his hand, Chester paused. He cocked his head, extended his own hand slowly, and trailed his pale fingertips over the back of the other's hand.   
After a few seconds, he shook his head – a gentle, slightly sad smile gracing his features - and turned his back on the other person.  
At first, the depressing feeling faded, but started getting worse again with time.

 

Just a few days later, there was another change in Chester's relationship with the other man.  
After he had greeted Chester and the blond man had greeted back, the other one asked a question, like usual.

“I love when everything starts to heat up again after a cold winter...”, he started and sighed pleasurably. Chester pictured the way the other one turned his head toward the inviting sun. They sat in silence for a few seconds, then the other asked, “What's your favorite season?”

Of course he didn't expect an answer from the silent young man, so he was startled when he got to hear the young man's low, melodic voice again.  
“I... I don't know...”, Chester murmured. “I don't have one.”  
He imagined the other one cocking his head. “Well maybe you're right... with not having a favorite season, I mean. All of them have something beautiful about them...”  
Chester shrugged to let the other one know he was listening and hoped that he would continue.

He did.

“Summer is wonderful. Everything is warm and pleasant, the city smells like dust, fun, and freedom...”, Chester could almost smell the dust, could almost feel the hot sun on his face.

“Besides...” - Chester pictured a dreamy expression on the other man's face. “... everything seems to be slower when it's warm, almost like it's in slow motion. The people smile and laugh and talk to strangers about how beautiful the weather is. The streets are filled with life, the ice cream shops are crowded and there are children running around everywhere... everyone seems to be so open-minded in the summer”, he sighed.   
“Yeah”, he added. “Summer is a wonderful season. And fall...”  
Chester imagined the other one creasing his brow thoughtfully, lightly tapping his index finger against his lower lip.  
“In the fall, everything seems to feel nostalgic, in a very pleasant way. Everyone knows that the cold is coming and want it to be summer... but they still seem to enjoy fall with its beautifully expressive colors; everything seems so peaceful...”

Chester could feel that peace spreading through his body, leaving his previously nervous and tense mind calm and at ease. The blonde did something he had never done before.   
He lifted his head and let the hot sun rays tickle his pale face.  
The other one giggled happily. 

“Winter is a magnificent season as well”, he continued. “The smell is wonderful, the exhaust fumes of the city seem to disappear, everything smells fresh and clean... sometimes I can't take my eyes off of the soft, white snow and the sun that is reflected in all colors of the rainbow...”, the young man sighed again and Chester almost felt like he longed for winter.

“I guess I'm just a dreamer...”, the other man mumbled and then smiled again. “But sometimes, when it's really cold out and I sit in my small apartment, with a hot cup of tea in my hands, and look out of the window... when I look at those streets covered in white and see all the people that brave the freezing cold just to buy presents for the people they love, how they all try to bring joy to their loved ones... sometimes I feel like my heart wants to burst with all that bliss...”, he sighed longingly. “And in winter... there's Christmas... days you spend with your loved ones, sing, cook, and give each other presents... could there be anything better than that?”

Both men sighed, moved by a sudden wave of melancholy.   
One of them because he longed for the next Christmas, the other one because he never had had a Christmas like that, and probably never would.

Chester always celebrated it with his parents. They never invited family over; Chester's wasn't even sure he had an extended family.  
So year after year, him and his parents went out to an expensive restaurant or had luxurious food delivered to their large home.  
Chester never liked an of it.  
What did it matter how expensive the caviar he ate was if he was actually just eating fish eggs?  
He always wanted a turkey that he helped to prepare, with vegetables, potatoes and gravy.   
A simple Christmas dinner, just like the one everyone else had.   
So he could feel normal at least once in his life. 

But when he told his mother, she just laughed and said that she couldn't cook, and besides, they were wealthy enough, why would they eat poor people's food on a day like Christmas.

Once, his parents didn't even come home for Christmas, they were too busy at work. So Chester's nanny made him a turkey. Chester helped prepare it and sat in front of the oven for an entire hour, just to watch it bake. His nanny was over sixty years old, and therefore the closest thing Chester would ever have to a grandmother.   
They sat on the floor of Chester's room together and devoured the turkey and potatoes and vegetables and gravy that they had put on plastic plates and brought up from the kitchen.

That must have been Chester's happiest Christmas. But that was a long time ago.

After Chester's parents returned from work that night, they found their son asleep in his bed, a plastic plate with cold turkey and vegetables next to him. They felt so bad for depriving their only son of a proper Christmas celebration that they made sure to be home by noon every following Christmas. 

And so Chester ate out every Christmas Eve and tried to smile while his parents ate caviar, sipped on wine that was decades old and talked about boring grown-up things.   
Christmas wasn't a day of joy for Chester.  
It just didn't feel right, sitting in a restaurant or at home with his parents and being served by other people that surely had families too?  
Families that they longed to spend this special day with, but couldn't because they had to earn the money for the presents that now laid under the tiny Christmas tree set up in their living room?   
Maybe those people had perfect families, a family that Chester yearned to have.

Chester wanted parents that ate turkey from plastic plates, that sang all the Christmas songs they knew with their son.  
Chester wanted annoying aunts that pinched his cheek and told him for the hundredth time “how much he'd grown since they last saw him”.  
He wanted loud uncles that patted Chester's shoulder affectionately and told him to study hard for school so he could get a good job after he graduated.   
He also longed for one or two knitting grandmas with snow-white hair that gave Chester scratchy, knitted sweaters and beside the candy always put apples, nuts, and oranges under the Christmas tree because “They boy has to eat healthy so he can grow up to be a strong man like his dad!”

Chester wanted a proud, white-haired grandfather that liked to tell stories and little anecdotes about his time with the Marines. A grandfather that secretively slipped him a dollar from time to time and told him to “not spend all of it at once”.  
When Chester was younger, he also wanted to have annoying little cousins to play with. Cousins to share his candy with and try out the new toys he had just gotten.

He sighed again, heavily, and apparently pulled the other one out of his thoughts, too, because he continued to speak.

“And then there's spring. Spring is awesome, because although winter is wonderful, too, you look forward to summer. The sun comes out after endless, cold, and gray days and you automatically get in a good mood. Spring gives you strength and confidence. The days start to last longer, you can start taking walks outside, it starts being lighter out... It's a beautiful view, the fresh, green scions poking through the sparkling blanket of snow... to see how the dried-out branches of trees come to life and start to grow light green sprouts and little leaves... it's like the world is reborn, year after year.”  
Chester heard the smile in the other man's voice as he added “And it's almost time... soon, all plants will be in full bloom again, the world will reveal its true beauty; just so the summer can come and bring it to a standstill again...”  
Chester smiled and felt a lightness in himself he had never felt before.

“And we”, the young man next to him added. “We always witness it, year after year.”  
He almost sounded awestruck because of that realization, and Chester realized that that man was special. That he saw the world in a completely different way than everyone around him.   
Especially Chester.

The other one got up. “It's time for me to go. I'll see you tomorrow!”  
He turned around and left

 

A few minutes later, Chester opened his eyes and felt like he saw the world through the other man's eyes.   
For the first time, Chester noticed the sap green color of the grass, the bright red and purple of the still closed tulips, and the strong light blue of the sky.   
He could hear the soft wind that whistled through the trees, he could hear the birds sing and the children laugh.


	3. Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's the third chapter.   
> And thanks to everyone who left Kudos ♥

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.  
He's been coming here for a few days now to meet the other man whose voice seemed more familiar to him than even his own.

He didn't know what the other one looked like. He didn't know his name either, didn't know where he lived, or how he lived. He didn't know if the other man went to school, to college, or was unemployed.   
But still – he wasn't a stranger to Chester. 

Because Chester knew that the other one was happy. He also knew that there were people that loved him, and people that he loved in return.   
Chester knew that the other one had a family and friends but still came to the small park day after day to see him.   
That's all Chester needed to know to realize how special the other one was.

A little while ago, they had started having proper conversations.   
Most of the time, the other man talked. He seemed to sense that Chester preferred it this way, even though he definitely didn't understand how much he affected the blonde.

Sometimes they had long conversations, sometimes shorter ones.  
Three days ago, they had their longest talk so far.   
For almost two hours they had sat on the hard park bench and talked about colors.  
Like with the seasons, the other one always seemed to find something pleasant about each one.

While Chester found black depressing, he thought it was exciting and mysterious; gray wasn't dull to him but inspiring, and he didn't feel like white was unfinished, but pure and beautiful.

 

Chester had had the same dream for two months now, but it started changing slightly over time. He didn't feel quite as lost anymore, standing in the middle of the crowd of people, not noticing, not recognizing him. When the other one showed up – still faceless – Chester took his hand in his. Sometimes he walked with him.  
The night after they had that long talk, he actually put his arm around the other man's shoulders.

Sometimes Chester wondered if this was what friendship felt like?  
He wondered if the other one was his friend, even if he technically didn't know anything about him?

“Yes”, Chester thought, plopping himself down onto the couch in his living room on a beautiful spring afternoon. Friendship was something wonderful to him... and it felt wonderful to talk to the other one.

He had just gotten home from the park, where he and the other man had had a relatively long conversation.   
They had talked about flowers, about feelings and smells, but the topics had never gotten too personal. That was what Chester loved about those daily talks with the other one.

An hour later, the other man had said goodbye and on the way back to his apartment, Chester bought himself a tub of ice cream, feeling unusually light and joyful. 

He pried the tub open with his fingers and got ready for a relaxed afternoon with only his chocolate chip ice cream and the TV to keep him company.  
For the first time, the talk shows and movies didn't seem so dull.

 

Chester had finished off half the tub when the doorbell rang. His head automatically turned towards the noise, while he asked himself who it could be.   
He didn't normally have visitors.   
He caught himself thinking - for just a short, irrational moment – that it could be the young man from the park.   
He dismissed that thought and got up to open the door.

In front of him stood a brunette, middle-aged man in a crisp, gray suit with immaculate, black shoes.  
When he was young, Chester had admired his father for those shoes. They always looked like they had just been polished.  
Chester had always imagined how he – after he had become a renowned doctor – would visit his parents, wearing immaculate, expensive black leather shoes, and how incredibly proud his parents would be of their only son. 

Looking at his father, Chester wondered what had happened to those dreams.

“Hello, Chester”, Mr. Bennington frowned and pulled his son into his arms for a short, awkward hug. He wasn't the hugging kind of person. Sure, he loved Chester in his own way, but he couldn't physically show it.  
“Hey, dad”, Chester answered. “Come in.”  
Chester's father entered the apartment and slid off his black shoes.

“Would you like a coffee or something to eat?”, Chester called, turning his head back toward his father while he entered his huge, mostly unused kitchen.   
His father took off his jacket and followed his son. “I just had lunch with a client, but I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee.”  
He sat down at the dining table and waited, tapping his long fingers against the glass surface impatiently until Chester put down two cups of hot, caffeinated goodness in front of him and sat down as well. 

“Son”, Mr. Bennington started. “I want to talk to you about attending college... again.”  
Chester let out a sigh and rolled his eyes inwardly.  
“I know, we've talked about this issue a lot, but - “ “I don't want to, okay?”, Chester said impatiently.   
“The winter semester starts in September, it's not too late to apply yet...”, his father continued, ignoring Chester's objection. 

“But I don't want to go, dad!”, the young man repeated, louder. His father ignored him again and continued talking.  
“I made a few phone calls, and since your grades are pretty good, they would accept you at Harvard or Yale... provided, I make a... donation. To whichever college you choose. Of course you'd still have to apply... just pro forma, you know?”

Chester sighed again, now seriously annoyed. He hated how his dad just ignored him and by doing so, made Chester feel like his father didn't think he was capable of running his own life.  
That this seemed to be true just made Chester even angrier.   
“But I won't go!” He said, his teeth pressed together tightly to keep himself from yelling.  
“... of course I would get you a nice apartment close to the colle - “ “DAMN IT!” Chester jumped up from his seat and glared at his father.

“How can I make this clear to you?! I do not want you to buy me into some fucking college, just because you CAN! I don't want your fucking 'donations'!!”, he screamed.   
His father stood up, too, his face red with anger  
.   
He was frustrated with the way his son had changed lately, and his temper threatened to collide with Chesters rage. There was so much anger stashed away in that fragile body. Unbearable rage, directed at himself, his parents, his life...

“Well, what do you want?!”, his father hissed. “What do you want, boy?! Because god dammit, I do not understand you!” He sighed. “You finished high school almost three years ago, you've been living here for a year, and you haven't accomplished anything. ANYTHING!!!”

That was too much for Chester  
.   
He had never allowed himself to unleash that anger... the anger that had been inevitably building up in that frail young man for years, just waiting for an outlet. 

The time had come.

“And whose fault is that, huh?! Maybe I would be normal if I had proper fucking parents!!”  
“Don't you dare!!”, his father yelled back. “Don't you dare question me and your mother as parents!!! We were good parents! It isn't our fault that you have grown up to be such an incompetent, ungrateful brat!”

Chester felt like some had slapped him. He had always suspected it... but to actually hear how disappointed his parents were in him hurt deeply.

“Get out!”, he hissed, the anger still present in his voice. “Get out of my apartment!”

But Mr. Bennington couldn't just drop the subject. He was a proud man, probably too proud, and Chester's accusations and insults hit him hard and made him incredibly angry.

“And do you know why you try to blame us for ruining your life? Because you can't admit to yourself that you're the one to blame!”, his voice calmed down, but the anger was still audible.   
“You're not in college, you don't have any friends, nothing! And do you know why?! Because you are a fucking coward!!”, he scoffed. “You are such a coward, Chester...”

Chester's hands started shaking and he got an almost irresistible urge to slap his father in the face. Today had been a good day. He had been happy for once in his life... and now his father thought he could just barge into his apartment and ruin everything?!

“GET OUT!”, Chester yelled, his fists clenched so tightly, the veins protruded sharply from his pale skin. “AND DON'T YOU DARE EVER COMING BACK!!!”  
Chester's father turned around on the spot, put on his shoes, grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, though not without slamming the front door shut behind him.

Blinded with rage, Chester grabbed a plate from the kitchen counter and threw it against the door his father had disappeared through just a few seconds ago.   
The plate shattered and fell to the floor. Chester felt a little better. He went back to the kitchen, grabbed a pot from the sink and smashed it through the glass plate of his dining table. The glass shattered into thousands of tiny, sharp shards. 

Chester stood in the middle of that mess, all energy suddenly drained from his body, the rage was gone, and the pot seemed to suddenly weigh a ton. Chester was exhausted. There was only so much he could handle... and he had reached his limit for the day.

He let go of the pot. It made a clinking sound as the metal collided with the broken bits of glass on the floor. Chester didn't really hear it as he slowly walked into the living room, his head pounding and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.   
He glanced at the halfway finished ice cream. It had started melting and slowly dripped onto the expensive couch.   
It reminded Chester of how just an hour ago, everything had seemed perfect.   
His father had brought the reality back into Chester's apartment like a cold blast of wind. 

Desperate sobs forced their way out of Chester's thin body, and he let them, collapsing onto the couch.   
Sniveling, he pulled his legs up to his upper body and put his arms around them, hiding his head in between his knees. He wanted to disappear.   
He felt pathetic, lying here and crying like a teenager with a broken heart.   
While he wasn't a teenager anymore, though, his heart had been broken.   
Way too many times.  
He cried into one his big, fluffy white pillows for what felt like hours until he fell asleep, completely drained of all energy. 

 

It was bright outside when Chester woke up.   
Rays of sun were filtering through the air and tickled the beautiful young man's face as he hesitantly opened his eyes.   
He rubbed his eyes sleepily and grimaced as the events from the day before caught up to him.  
Chester had almost expected to awake with a depressing feeling in his heart, like so many times before. He was surprised by what he felt instead.

He felt rested. Rested, and determined. 

The blonde got up and went to the kitchen where he grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the mess from the previous day.  
His father was right, Chester thought, as he carefully picked up the shards in front of the door.  
He was a coward. But he would change that: he would prove to his father that he didn't need him to run his life for him. He would start managing it on his own.

His father's words had hurt the blonde, even if he didn't want to admit that to himself.  
And under the surface, under the defiance that kept him going, his heart wept.   
It cried because his parents were so obviously disappointed in him. Of course, Chester was disappointed in himself too, but hearing those words from the mouth of the man that had raised him, hurt a lot more.

Chester was determined. He wouldn't be a coward anymore.   
… He would be a son his father could be proud of.

The blonde grabbed a towel and entered the bathroom.   
Slowly, he began undressing himself. One piece of clothing after the other fell to the floor with a soft thud, before he entered the big, paned shower. 

A pleasurable sigh left his throat as the hot water started heating up his fragile body.  
He closed his eyes and tilted his face upwards. He felt like the water washed away the dirt from the previous day.  
For a few minutes he just stood there, feeling the water trailing down his body, until he shook his head and started rubbing shampoo into his dyed, bleach-blonde hair. 

Five minutes later, Chester left the shower and started drying himself with one of the soft white towels lying around in his bathroom.   
After he put on a pair of boxer shorts, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself absentmindedly. Chester had never liked what his reflection showed him  
.   
His mother always used to tell him what a pretty boy he was, and sometimes she still did. Chester didn't believe her though.   
He was too skinny, too lanky. He was far from looking like the guys he saw in the commercials on TV. He didn't have a six pack... he didn't really have any muscle at all. Of course he would have liked to look different, but most days he just didn't feel like eating a lot. It was nearly impossible for him to put on weight.   
Frowning, he lifted his head. He stared at his face in the mirror. He didn't really like his face either.   
His jawline was way too strong, his lips were too small, his nose too crooked. The only thing that he didn't dislike about his face were his eyes.   
They were a dark, hazelnut color and framed by long, dark brown eye lashes.

With another frown, he started styling his hair and thought about what he would wear today when he went to the park to see the other man.


	4. Absorbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here is the fourth chapter!
> 
> I know that the story starts off kinda slow. And I have to say that the later chapters are my favorites. So hang in there if you're interested ;)   
> Massive thanks for all the kudos ♥
> 
>  
> 
> @Stefuh: You are so amazing for reviewing every single chapter! Honestly, it means so much to me to hear from other people that they enjoy my story ♥ 
> 
> @Spunky3012: Thank you so much for reviewing! It gives me so much motivation to update quickly :*

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.

It was warm out, so the young man had exchanged the usual oversized, black hoodie and boots for a tight, gray t-shirt, black skinny jeans and his beloved, worn-out Converse.

Today it had been hard for the young man to enter the park.  
Not because he didn't want to see the other man, it was quite the opposite actually. There was nothing he wanted more than hearing that soft, husky voice again.

Still, he was scared. Always scared.   
And he cursed himself for being so fucking afraid all the time.

So he waited anxiously for the other man, eyes pressed shut tightly, willing his trembling heart to calm down.  
He could hear the footsteps of businessmen rushing past where he sat, talking rapidly on their phones. He could hear stressed out moms walking by him, with older and younger, screaming and whining kids with annoying, high-pitched voices.   
Little girls in summer dresses that danced by, teenage boys with ghetto blasters, people on roller skates, and -   
He heard them. The other man's footsteps, gradually coming closer. 

He tried to relax his facial muscles as the other man sat down next to him, hoping that his inner turmoil wasn't obvious to the outer world.   
“Hey.”  
Chester didn't answer. He swallowed. Took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Then, almost as in slow motion, he turned his head in the direction of the young man.   
His heart started racing, his palms started sweating.  
He took in a shaky breath, and slowly opened those hazelnut eyes.

 

Chester gasped when he saw the other young man for the first time. The man that – no matter how strange their meetings were – had become an important part of Chester's life.   
It almost overwhelmed him to be able to match that beautiful, calming voice to a face. 

 

He had pictured the other one in his head a few times before.   
He had pictured him with light hair, maybe blonde like his, with locks that softly fell into his face. He had pictured pale skin that stretched over a muscular but slim body.   
In his vision, there had always been a golden glow surrounding the other man. 

Now Chester wondered why he had imagined him like that. Maybe because he had started to unconsciously associate the other one's presence with that of an angel – reassuring and calming, but not tangible in any way. 

Now the blonde felt naïve, almost stupid for trying to picture the way the other man affected him. Because now that he actually saw him, all those visions faded quickly. 

 

He was completely different from what Chester had imagined. But at the same time, he was perfect in such a strange way.

Chester had always been different from others his age. Everyone noticed it sooner or later.  
Everyone noticed that Chester was a stunning young man. A stunning young man filled with sorrow. A stunning young man, that was so obviously deprived of something essential.  
Even now, as Chester let his hazel eyes wander over the other's frame, he noticed other details than most, that 'normal' people would notice. 

He didn't notice the long, black eyelashes that framed the other's dark eyes. He noticed the warmth these eyes seemed to radiate. He disregarded the toned muscle of the other's arms and shoulders. He took note of the security and protection these arms promised.  
Upon the first look, he did not realize how soft the dark hair seemed to be, how evenly colored the caramel skin was. He realized how the dark hair and dark skin perfected this image of warmth and protection he had created in his head. 

After Chester had finally allowed himself to look at the other man, he felt like he never wanted to look at anything else, ever again.   
He didn't want to talk either. He didn't want to spoil this perfect moment with trivial words. 

 

Silently, he began studying the other's appearance more deeply. A subtle smile formed on his lips as his eyes followed the sunlight that burned down on the thick locks of jet-black hair and caused it to glow in a dark, deep brown tone.

The other's hair was straight and a few strands fell into his face. Chester resisted the urge to stroke it back behind his ears. He didn't want to change anything about the other one, not even his rebellious locks.  
So he let his eyes wander, memorizing every inch of the his face.

On both sides, his ears poked through his black hair. Involuntarily, Chester's hand flew up to his own ear and he fingered it abstractedly. His ears stuck out a little bit, too. His heart jumped. 

A smile started forming on the other man's lips. Small wrinkles started forming around his dark eyes. Ironically, they made him look younger.   
Chester hoped that he would never stop smiling. He didn't  
.  
The other one sat beside Chester motionlessly, his lips still stretched into a beaming smile, while he watched the other man.   
He didn't seem to be waiting for anything. He seemed to pause, perfectly happy with what Chester was able to give him.   
He didn't expect Chester to entertain him. To tell him jokes or stories from his childhood.   
He didn't even expect him to talk at all. 

Chester had never experienced a relationship that excluded any kind of expectation.  
Of course, his parents loved him almost unconditionally. But they had simultaneously always had such great expectations for him.   
Good grades, an Ivy League college, a high-paying job, a house and his own family.   
And now that he couldn't seem to fulfill those expectations, he felt their disappointment in him clearly. 

But the man that seemed very familiar in such an unfamiliar way seemed to want nothing. He didn't expect, didn't ask. He just took what he was offered.  
This attitude was the reason the corners of Chester's mouth started lifting up into a reluctant, insecure smile. 

The didn't talk to each other this day. The next day, they didn't either.   
They still met in the park, at the bench close to the entrance, and just looked at one another. It seemed to be enough.

And hour by hour, Chester discovered more details about the other's appearance. 

He noticed that the other's ears were pierced. He wondered whether the holes were witnesses of a rebellious phase, or whether he still wore ear rings from time to time? 

The blonde boy did not have a very profound knowledge of human nature. This was of course due to the fact that he had never spend an extensive period of time with anyone other than his parents, his private teacher, or his nanny.   
Still, it was thrilling to study the other one and to try to draw conclusions from his appearance to his everyday life. 

The day before, his hands and shirt were smudged with dried paint stains.   
Maybe he was a painter?

In addition to his dark hair, the other one had very dark eyes as well, which were slightly almond shaped. Chester deduced that his ancestors couldn't likely be purely American. 

He had started to wonder which country his family could be from originally.   
Those impressive eyes were an important factor. He limited the possibilities to East Asia, because of the shape and color of those deep, dark eyes.  
He was unable to decide between China, Korea, Vietnam, and Japan. He was almost certain that at least one side of the family had northern American or European influences, since the Asian traits were apparent on the other's face, but not as distinct as they would be if he were purely Asian. He also spoke perfect English with a Californian accent, so Chester decided that he was probably born here, too. 

Maybe he would one day muster up the courage to ask the other one. 

But not today. Today, he just wanted to look at him.


	5. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's the 5th chapter.   
> I'm not sure if anyone (apart from Stefuh and Spunky3012 ♥) is actually reading this story?  
> I would appreciate it so, so, so much if you guys told me what you think of this story. Good or bad! Feedback is always really helpful :)
> 
> So this chapter and the next two are kinda short, so I'll make sure to update quickly!
> 
> Enjoy ♥
> 
>  
> 
> @Stefuh: I'm so glad you like the way the story builds up! I actually think it's soothing too, but I wasn't sure if it wasn't too boring or something :)  
> @Spunky3012: Thank you for reviewing again, it makes me so happy!! And no it's definitely not bad of you to want Mike to corrupt him a bit - I feel the same way ;)

Chapter 5: Routine

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees. 

Chester hated routines. He had ever since he had been a child. He preferred being free, unlimited.  
That that wasn't an option for a child had angered him.  
He hated being woken up by his mother at 8 a.m. sharp every morning, to already know what the rest of the day would look like. To know that he would have breakfast, have a two-hour lesson, then have a break. This would be followed by another two hours of being tutored, another break, another lesson.  
After that he would have a piece of cake with his nanny, have some play time, eat dinner, take a shower, brush his teeth, go to bed.   
Another day lived in routine. Another wasted day for Chester. 

 

He rubbed his pale face absentmindedly, thinking about the dark-haired man. The dark-haired man that had showed him that routines don't have to be tiring or constricting.   
The blonde had fallen into a routine with the other one that was pleasing and calming to him – in contrast to his life so far, which had always seemed too dull to enjoy. 

But even this new routine could not suppress one of Chester's primary character traits: he always wanted more.   
Not that he was greedy. Not in the material sense of the word, anyway. After all those bleak years dominated by rules, he had developed an insatiable thirst for life, causing his urge to advance this relationship grew stronger and stronger. 

The notion of letting their relationship evolve scared Chester. Since he had never been around a lot of people, he had no social skills. He was terrified of ruining what he had accomplished so far, which caused him to shy away from the other one in crucial moments. 

Of course, Chester's father played an important role when it came to Chester's new-found determination. He had received a phone call from him this morning.  
He had asked Chester to rethink his decisions concerning his attitude toward going to college for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

The young man was determined to manage without his father's help. He didn't want to be dependent on him anymore. So he had assured his father that his opinions hadn't changed, and hung up. 

Wasn't it surprising? That by offering his son his help time and time again, he pushed him further and further away?

 

The blonde's thoughts were interrupted when he saw the other man enter the park. Chester could easily picture the look on his mother's face, would she spot someone in this attire walk around the city. He was barefoot, sported a torn and washed-out pair of jeans, and a plaid flannel shirt with a white v-neck shirt underneath.  
His mother would have wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Chester thought he looked perfect.

A smile lit up the dark-haired man's face when he spotted Chester on the bench. The blonde couldn't help but smile back just as enthusiastically. 

The man sat down next to Chester and before he even had time to think about them, words tumbled out of his mouth, and he was incapable of holding them back.

A “Mmpghf” escaped his lips – and the other man furrowed his brow in concern. Chester sighed inwardly. He wasn't even capable of mouthing a simple “hello”, and now the other one probably thought he was insane.

He was sure that he would not be able to forgive himself if the dark-haired man thought of him as a lunatic, so there didn't seem to be any other option than to properly talk to him, as insecure as he might have felt. 

He cleared his throat and pushed one hand through his soft, bleached hair in an uncertain way.

“Hello”, he mumbled and felt the blood rushing to his face. “I'm Chester.”


	6. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is the 6th chapter, enjoy! 
> 
> Seriously, Stefuh and Spunky3012, thank you SO much for always reviewing ♥ Probably would have stopped updating if it wasn't for you, it means a lot!

Chapter 6: Feel the Warmth

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees. 

He watched the other one nervously, waiting for his reaction.  
A bright smile stretched out across the dark-haired man's face when he offered his hand to Chester.

„My name is Michael“, he grinned, and Chester let his eyes fall shut briefly as a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.  
Finally connecting that voice he grew to love so much with the other's appearance caused his throat to swell with emotion he hadn't expected. Exhilaration rushing through him at the thought that everything was finally coming together.

The blonde swallowed heavily and took a deep breath before taking Michael's hand and shaking it.

He felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest when his fingers touched the other one's warm flesh. He licked his dry lips and looked up, into his face. He was greeted with a warm smile and noticed how Michael's left hand joined his right, so that Chester's smaller, paler hand laid safely between his larger, warmer hands. 

“Michael...”, the blonde whispered abstractedly, little electric shocks began running through his body as the other one started to draw small circles on the back of Chester's hand with his thumb. 

“Did you know that 'Michael' is an arch angel's name?”, Chester uttered the first thing that crossed his mind without thinking. 

The other one's smile broadened while Chester's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.   
He realized that Michael probably took this bout of verbal diarrhea as a compliment, as if Chester had meant to compare him to an angel.  
He hadn't meant it that way originally, but it was a pretty good comparison nonetheless. 

 

“Would you like to walk for a bit? My butt hurts from all this sitting around”, Michael smirked with his deep, husky voice, breaking the comfortable silence.   
Chester smiled shyly and then nodded his head. 

They both stood up, each waiting for the other one to go ahead.   
And awkward second passed and then they both took a step forward, bumping into each other in the process.

“You go”, Michael smiled and made an inviting gesture with his hand.

“Thanks”, the blond whispered and took a step forward.

The young men walked through the park in silence for a few minutes.   
Chester was relieved that it didn't feel weird. He had been reluctant to progress their relationship, dreading that something would change, that words would ruin the comfort he felt when the other one was with him.  
But it was still them, and it didn't matter if they talked or not. 

“So”, the darker one finally broke the silence. “Your name is Chester, huh?”  
The blonde nodded his head silently.

“That's a very unusual name”, Michael smiled.  
Chester nodded again, not knowing what to say to that. 

He watched Michael as they continued on through the park, pebbles crunching beneath his sneakers.

“Doesn't... doesn't it hurt?”, the blond asked quietly. 

Michael looked at him, obviously confused until he caught Chester looking at his bare feet and laughed. 

“No, it doesn't hurt. I walk around barefoot all the time, my feet have gotten used to it by now.”

A smile grew on Chester's lips and Michael joined in, as always.

“Seriously, there is nothing better than the feeling of hot sand below your feet”, the dark-haired man sighed. “I feel like somehow, it makes you experience your surroundings in a more intense way. I don't know how to explain it...”

Michael's dark eyes suddenly took on a glint that could only be described as mischievous eyes that had started to sparkle with excitement suddenly.

“Take off your shoes!”, he grinned.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, take off your shoes and you'll see what I mean”, the other one laughed, a warm smile on his lips.

Chester thought about rejecting his idea for moment. He thought about what his mother would say in this situation. That it's bad manners to walk around barefoot. He slowly shook his head.

“Okay”, he mumbled. 

He bent down to untie his shoelaces, slipping out of his Converse and black socks to pick them up.

Michael laughed quietly, and his warm, husky voice sent a shiver down the blonde's spine.

He looked down at their feet. They were as different as the people they belonged to.   
Like caramel and vanilla. Like fire and ice. 

The blonde sighed and took a few tentative steps forward. He could feel the little stones beneath the soles of his feet and walked faster. He wanted to feel more of that warm, sandy ground on his skin.

He felt connected to the world around him in a way he never had before. Connected to his environment, himself, and Michael. 

He felt like, for the first time, he really understood the way the other one perceived his surroundings. And it made him feel more alive than he ever had.


	7. Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is a pretty short chapter - the next ones are gonna have more plot!
> 
> Again - if you read this story, I'd appreciate it a lot if you left a review. It truly means so much to me and makes me so happy to hear if someone liked the story. Or even if you didn't like the story, constructive criticism is great :)
> 
> ENJOY ♥
> 
>  
> 
> ____________
> 
> @MissDomho: Thank you so much for reviewing on here,too, you are amazing ♥  
> @Spunky3012: I'm soo glad this story makes you smile ♥  
> @Stefuh: Thank you for reviewing,hope you enojoy this next chapter ♥

Chapter 7: Michael.

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees  
He thought about the dark-haired man. Michael.  
After such a long time of uncertainty, Chester struggled with using his actual name. He had gotten used to calling him “the other one” in his thoughts and dreams.

Michael.

Chester smiled. Silently, he formed the syllables with his lips.

Mi-chael.

Chester giggled and then blushed.

 

“Michael”, he mumbled. 

 

Chester hadn't talked to his parents in five days. He felt like he needed more time. More time with the other one, to sort out his thoughts and feelings.

The blonde felt like the other one could show him new perspectives. Show him more of the world he lived in.  
Even if he only admitted these thoughts to himself in his sleep.   
When he was awake, he was too afraid of letting any kind of hope build up in himself. He couldn't risk being let down again. 

“Michael”, Chester whispered again softly.

A few days ago, the other one had asked the blonde to call him 'Mike'. All of his friends called him that, he said, and Chester's heart started jumping up and down with joy.  
Did that mean that the other one saw him as a friend?

Michael.

Chester still called the dark-haired man by his full name. He almost felt like the nickname was an insult to a name that was so perfect in itself, it needed neither abbreviation nor prolongation.

The blonde scrunched up his face and yawned quietly. He hadn't slept particularly well the previous night.   
He brushed his hand through his soft, bleached hair and stood up, stretching out his skinny frame.  
It would be a while before the other one would meet him at the bench at the entrance of the park.

Without actually knowing where he was going, Chester set one foot in front of the other.  
He walked through the large park aimlessly and eventually let himself sink down to the ground next to the sandy footpath.  
He smiled subconsciously. 

His hazel eyes scanned the ground before him, and eventually he picked up a dried-up twig with his fingers.  
He let them glide over the rough wood, almost enjoying the sensation, before setting the tip down on the ground.  
Absentmindedly, he drew fine lines into the hot sand. The twig moved upward, downward, to the side.  
Many times, before Chester let it slip through his fingers and looked at the path before him happily, observing what he had written - 

Michael.

 

Briefly, he let his cautious fingertips slide through the warm sand, enjoying the sensation of the small gray pebbles below his fingers for a moment, before getting up again.

He stretched, his fingers stroking over his taut stomach distractedly. A pleasant sigh left the rosy lips as his fingers, heated up from touching the sand, touched the cool skin beneath his shirt.

Walking slowly, he made his way back to the park bench. 

He sat down and resumed his usual position – the long legs pulled up to his torso, his head resting on his knees. 

Sighing, he shut his hazel eyes.  
A well known picture took form in his mind. Chester saw it almost every time he closed his eyelids.

Black hair that gleamed in the harsh sunlight, warm brown eyes, soft lips stretched into a smile.  
Michael.

The corners of the blonde's mouth lifted up. Smiling, he opened his eyes, and saw himself face to face with the man he had just seen in his mind.

Michael.


	8. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reviewing, Spunky3012 ♥
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Coffee Shop

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.  
Next to him sat a dark-haired man, just as youthful in appearance. 

A few weeks had passed since the day Chester had finally dared to look at him.  
They still met up in the large, beautiful park close to Chester's apartment every single day.

Michael tipped his head back and enjoyed the pleasant heat of the sun on his tanned face while Chester watched him.  
The blonde had never felt this safe with another person before – being with Michael was so astoundingly easy.   
No forced conversation, no nervous silence. When they talked to each other, they talked; and when they didn't, they didn't.  
Then they sat next to each other and enjoyed the beautiful weather that had warmed up over the last few weeks of spring in silence.

„Hey Chester?“, Michael mumbled lazily, stretching his face toward the sun, sighing. 

„Huh?“, the blonde replied and turned his head to his right, the light from the sun reflecting in his eyes, turning them light brown.

„We always meet up in the same spot... wouldn't you like a change of scenery? How about a coffee shop or something? I'd love to treat you to a coffee... or ice cream, or whatever you like...“, he trailed of. 

Chester felt uncertain about this proposal. He felt safe inside the boundaries of the beautiful park - it almost felt like a second home to him now, but he didn't know what it would feel like to meet Michael one in a crowded space. 

As a child, Chester had often panicked in social situations – at family gatherings, or when his father dragged him along to informal meetings with business partners to show him off. He hated the feeling of eyes on him, the forced conversations, the expectations he couldn't fulfill. It overwhelmed him to the point of feeling sick. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny Michael's request. He didn't want to disappoint him, didn't want him to lose interest when he didn't understand why the other one would talk to him in the first place. 

So he cleared his throat and mumbled “okay”. 

The dark-haired man shot him a bright smile. “Do you see the coffee shop over there? Facing the entrance of the park?”, he asked and pointed in the direction of a small building with large windows.

Chester nodded.

“Would you like to meet up there tomorrow? Same time as always?”

Chester nodded again.

“Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then”, Michael smiled and got up.  
His hand brushed over Chester's shoulder softly, and then he was gone. 

 

Chester had an uneasy feeling in his stomach when he left his apartment the following day. He couldn't help but think that this meeting was not a good idea.  
The blonde felt sick as he made his way to the small coffee shop facing the entrance of his beloved park.

His stomach dropped when he opened the door, the loud bustling of people talking beating down on his ears. 

Michael sat at a table close to the back of the coffee shop. But he wasn't alone. 

Another young man sat next to him, probably around Chester's age.  
His hair was short and brown, and he was focused on the conversation he held with the man next to him.   
For a moment, Chester actually considered turning around and walking back to his apartment, but the other one noticed him before he could put his plan into action.

A bright smile stretched out across Michael's face and his dark eyes lit up when he discovered the slender, blonde boy next to the door and waved him over.  
Reluctantly, putting one foot in front of the other, Chester made his way to the table that seated the two young men.  
When he got there, he stood beside the table awkwardly, while an uncomfortable silence filled the air around them. They were obviously waiting for him to say something. 

“Why don't you have a seat with us, Chester?”, Michael smiled and waved a hand in the direction of the empty chair next to him.   
The blonde nodded and sat down next to the dark-haired man. 

Silence, again.

“I don't think you guys have met?”, Michael glanced at both of them shortly. Chester noticed that the expression in his eyes was different from what he had witnessed during the hours they spent in the park.   
His eyes always radiated this peaceful warmth, this sense of being completely at ease with oneself and the world. 

Michael seemed different now, like this situation weighed him down just as much as Chester.   
Both shook their heads at Michael's question and Chester noticed the other's skeptical eyes on him.

“So Rob, this is Chester”, Michael flashed a smile in the blonde's direction and he felt weirdly weightless for a few wonderful seconds. 

“Chester, this is Rob. A friend of mine. He came by surprisingly.”

The blonde felt like the glance Michael shot him was apologetic, but he might as well just have imagined it.

“Hello”; Chester mumbled, intimidated, and the other one nodded curtly.

More silence. And Chester couldn't shake the feeling that Rob didn't like him. Already.

“Are we ready to order?”, Michael was obviously confused that he was the only one talking.  
Both nodded. 

The dark-haired man looked around for a waiter; a smile, though not as bright as usual, forming on his lips. A young waitress, the silky brown hair tied back in a pony tail, caught his glance and stopped so abruptly that she bumped into another customer. Her face blushing red, she apologized, set down the tray she was holding, and then walked towards the three young men. 

“Are you ready to order?”, she asked them politely, her eyes focused on Michael.   
Chester disliked her instantly, even though he wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe because of her fake nails that almost looked like claws, ready to gauge someone's eyes out. Or maybe because of the way she batted her eyelashes at Michael, making herself look ridiculous.

“Just a simple coffee”, Michael answered, his eyes on the menu in front of him.  
“I'll take the same”, Rob piped up and smiled at her.

Silence. 

“Chester?”

He flinched, the question ripping him out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

Michael laughed softly and glanced at the blonde with an expression of adoration in his brown eyes that Rob didn't like at all. “What would you like to drink?”

“Uhm... uh, hot chocolate, please“, he mumbled shyly, looking down at his knees. While the dark-haired man's eyes took on a tender expression, Rob had a hard time suppressing an amused snort at the blonde's childish behavior.

After the waitress had left, he turned to Chester. 

“You don't like coffee? Hot chocolate is for children”, he teased.   
Michael shot him a disapproving glare immediately. 

“I... I don't like coffee”, Chester breathed, unsettled. Rob's eyebrow raised as he looked the blonde up and down slowly, disapprovingly.

Chester shrunk under his gaze.   
“I have to go to the bathroom”, he excused himself, noticing the well known feeling of panic rise up in his throat. He got up and stumbled toward the door leading to the restrooms. 

There, he stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, studying his pale complexion and trying to compose himself.

When he had finally convinced himself to go back to the others and left the bathroom, he walked right in on a heated conversation between Rob and Michael. 

“Are you serious? That guy is obviously deranged or something”, Rob snarled, and Chester felt hot tears rise up in his eyes. It was painfully obvious that they were talking about him.

“No, Rob”, the other one defended him. “He's just... different”

Michael's words hit Chester like a blow to the head. There was nothing holding him back now.

Chester fled the coffee shop, Michael's shouts ringing in his ears. Silent tears started blurring his vision when he realized something important.

He would never be normal enough for Michael.


	9. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this story is uplifting, I think that's what we need in times like these. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your reviews, Stefuh and Spunky ♥
> 
> Enjoy, everyone!

Chapter 9: Feelings

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.

His hazel eyes were shut tightly in a failing attempt to keep thick tears from spilling out from under his pale eyelids. 

After the disaster in the coffee shop, Chester had fled to the only place he had ever felt some kind of comfort.  
He had curled up sobbing on the bench close to the entrance of the park where he had met the other one.  
All of his hopes, all of the plans he had made in the last few days and weeks seemed obsolete now, ridiculous. 

How did he manage to convince himself that he would ever be able to lead a normal life?  
Let alone build that life up by himself?  
He should have done what his father had planned for him all along. Attend an elite university, get a degree, and take over his father's business eventually.   
Lead a rich, unfulfilled life, just like his parents.  
His future didn't seem to have more in store for him than that.

Chester cursed himself for letting his guard down against better judgment and for allowing hope to grow inside of him. 

He buried his tear-stained face in his hands. His weakness ashamed him. He hated himself for not being normal enough, for being so sensitive.

Chester's ears perked up at the sound footsteps, quickly approaching the place where he sat but didn't bother to look up. 

“Chester!”, Michael's deep voice called out softly. He was breathing hard, making it obvious that he had been running. 

“Che...ster”, he repeated, sitting down next to the blonde while trying to get his breathing back under control.   
Chester didn't react to his presence – he wouldn't know what to say anyway.

A part of him hoped that Michael would give up and just leave, but the rest of him was terrified of the inevitable loneliness that would follow. 

“Chester, please look at me”, the man he had grown so fond of over last weeks pleaded softly.

The blonde lifted his head slowly, revealing his reddened, swollen eyes.

“Chester, what is going on?”, Michael asked, sounding slightly desperate now.

“N-nothing... nothing at all”, Chester mumbled and lowered his head.

“Chester!”, Michael's voice sounded firmer now, determined. He lifted his chin up, forcing the blonde to look at him.   
Chester flinched, the unexpected touch sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Chester, I want you to tell me what's going on”, Michael stated calmly, his deep brown eyes boring into the blonde's. 

“I'm not normal”, he sobbed out as more tears spilled from those large, hazel-colored eyes. “You said it yourself.”

Michael sighed heavily as the realization of what had happened finally hit him. He lifted up the blonde's chin, once again locking their eyes. 

“Chester, I said that you're 'different', not 'abnormal'.”

“Same thing”, Chester breathed, sadness taking a hold of him again as he freed himself from the darker man's grasp and lowered his head.

“It isn't the same thing, Chester”, Michael patiently lifted Chester's chin up again, his dark almond-shaped eyes fixated on the blonde's face. “'Different' just means that you're special. You are unique, Chester. You're not normal and boring like every one else...”

Chester sniveled. “Really?”  
He wanted to believe the other's words so desperately. 

“Really”, Michael answered and did something he had never done before.

He hugged Chester.   
He put his arms around the blonde cautiously, pulling him up against his stronger, warmer body gently.  
Chester stiffened at the touch, but started to relax when he felt Michael's fingers running over his back soothingly. 

Gradually, the blonde's sobs died down, his body visibly calming, but Michael didn't loosen his grip.   
Never before had Chester felt as comfortable, as secure as he did in this moment, safe inside the dark-haired man's arms. 

Surrounded by Michael's intoxicating scent and warmth, the blonde closed his eyes and leaned his head against his chest.

The sad, hopeless feeling that had paralyzed Chester just moments before was replaced by a tingling sensation that started out in the places where Michael's skin touched his own, and gradually spread through his entire body. 

Chester's stomach felt weird, almost like he was going to be sick - but in a good way, which was a confusing sensation.  
Michael lifted one hand up from Chester's back and started running his fingers through the blonde's soft curls absentmindedly.  
Chester closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the darker man's gentle touch. 

Was what real friendship felt like?


	10. Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the 10th chapter! Hope you like it, let me know ♥
> 
> Thanks for reviewing, Stefuh :*

Chapter 10: Laughter 

 

On a park bench, the once white coating now cracked and dirty, sat a young man. His legs were pulled up to his upper body, his head resting on his knees.

His heart was racing in his chest, the exhilarating tingle leaving his body reluctantly.  
Was it normal to have this kind of reaction to a hug?

Chester had never felt this way when he hugged his mother, his father, or his nanny.   
Maybe it was a feeling associated with friendship, something you could only feel when hugging a true friend?  
Chester didn't know.  
And he couldn't very well ask Michael. What if he hadn't felt it?

“Chester?”, the blonde flinched when he was pulled out of his thoughts.  
He looked up into Michael's honest, dark brown eyes. The eyes of his first real friend.   
At least that's what he assumed they were.   
He didn't really know how to define friendship.   
Maybe there was more to it than just talking to each other?

What did people his age usually do with their free time?  
Go to the mall with friends, listen to music with friends, get drunk with friends? ... He hadn't done any of that with Michael.  
So maybe they weren't really friends after all?

“Chester...?”  
He looked up again. He hadn't even realized he had drifted back off into his thoughts.

“Chester, I'm so sorry about Rob...”, Michael gave him a pleading look.

The blonde shrugged his shoulders. He could never admit to the other one how much Rob's words had hurt and unsettled him. 

“He just randomly came by, he must've seen me through the window... I tried to give him hints that I didn't want him there, but he just didn't get it.” 

Michael sighed deeply then. “I really don't know why he was being such an ass back there, he usually is a decent guy...”, Michael frowned. “Unless...”, he trailed off, obviously losing himself in his own thoughts. 

“What is it?”, Chester coaxed. 

The dark-haired man shook his head slowly, almost as if to shake off intrusive thoughts. “It doesn't matter. I just really want you to know how sorry I am for the way things played out...” 

“It's fine”, the blonde responded softly and directed his gaze at his feet.

“Well, how about we go back to that coffee shop?”, suddenly blushing, Michael looked down at his hands. “If... if you want to.”

Chester couldn't disappoint him again. He would prove that he was normal enough. He couldn't hide in this park forever. 

“So...”, the dark-haired man looked up distractedly. “...let's go?”  
Chester nodded, setting his feet on the ground firmly, pushing himself up into a standing position. 

They walked down the path to the exit in silence.  
Lost in thought, Chester had fixed his eyes on the gravel to his feet, so he flinched when he felt a touch on his shoulder.

His heart picked up its pace. It was Michael's hand.  
It just laid there, gentle and warm and comforting.

The blonde felt the physical warmth Michael's large hand emitted with such intensity, he almost feared it would burn a hole right through his thin shirt.

His body shivered involuntarily when Michael started running his thumb back and forth over the rough fabric absentmindedly.   
“I'm really, really sorry for what happened today”, he sighed deeply. “That wasn't what I had in mind.”

Chester's previously gloomy mood began to brighten. Obviously, Michael was disappointed in how the day had gone. He was disappointed that they hadn't been alone.

“It's not your fault”, he muttered and hoped that Michael wouldn't pull his hand away, wouldn't deprive Chester of his comforting touch. He didn't.

“Still, I-”, Michael tried to bring the issue up again, but Chester cut him short. “It's fine, okay? We don't have to talk about this anymore.”  
Chester hadn't really intended his words to sound so harsh, and he instantly regretted them.

The hand disappeared from his shoulder.

“Fine”, Michael muttered, perplexed. “We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to...”

 

“Thanks”, Chester answered, a well-known shyness taking a hold of him again. He tried to make the word sound as gentle as possible, he didn't want Michael to think he was upset.

He just couldn't talk about what happened any longer.  
He didn't want to risk becoming insecure again, becoming vulnerable again.  
He hated being weak so much.

And it was his parents' fault. It was their fault that he was this way.  
They hadn't prepared him for what was waiting behind the walls of their mansion.  
It was their fault that he was incapable of leading a normal life.  
That he didn't know how to react in social situations.  
That he didn't even know what friendship felt like.

At least that was what he liked to tell himself. Passing the blame on to someone else was just so much easier. Giving up responsibility.  
He sighed deeply.  
He hated being so insecure all the time.  
He hated being so fucking afraid all the time.  
And he hated being caged in his own head like this, his own thoughts driving him crazy.  
He hated having disappointed Michael today. The only one that was capable of breaking Chester out of his self-built prison, he was sure of that.  
He hated having to go back to that damned coffee shop.

And he despised himself for not being strong enough to tell the other one any of this.

 

The closer they got to the dreaded building, the slower Chester's feet moved. Without questioning him, the taller man adjusted his steps.  
It was only when Chester came to a full stop that Michael looked at him in confusion.

“What's wrong?”, he asked softly.  
“I...”, Chester stuttered. Now was the perfect moment to tell him. To tell him he didn't want to go back to that coffee shop.   
“It's nothing...”, he finished, and forced his feet to take another step forward. 

Michael's hand held him back, long fingers curling around the blonde's upper arm gently to stop him.  
“You don't want to go back to that coffee shop, do you?”, he looked at him questioningly. Chester sighed and nodded his head.

“You could have told me, Chester”, Michael said, his voice remaining soft, trying to coax Chester into opening up to him. The blonde looked down at his feet, feeling a hot blush spread across his face.  
“I know”, he breathed.

He heard Michael chuckle then. “You're adorable, you know that?”

Chester's blush intensified and he lifted his head, only to see Michael already in motion, walking into the opposite direction of the coffee shop.

“Are you coming or what?”, he called. And when Chester didn't move, he turned around, walked back to where the young man stood, took his hand gingerly and pulled him forward.  
That pushed Chester out of his trance, and he started walking beside the darker man in silence. 

Michael didn't pull his hand away. They remained silent, Chester's hand clutched safely in his larger one. Again, the touch made Chester feel like his skin was electric, tiny sparks rushing up the inked skin of his arm, increasing his heart beat to an almost frantic pace.

As inexperienced as he was, he did know that it wasn't normal for friends to hold hands like this. Or was it? Michael was a pretty affectionate person, maybe he treated everyone like this?

They walked in silence for a minute, until a shut from behind them caused Chester to flinch and Michael to turn around, dropping his hand. 

“Mike! Hey, Mike!”

Chester spun around in confusion, only to see a tall, thin man with brown, curly hair walk up to them.  
“Brad, hey”, Michael answered, a frown passing over his face - even though he didn't seem to be unhappy to see the other man as they hugged shortly. 

“Dude, what's been up with you? We haven't heard from you in forever!”, the unknown man started questioning. 

“I know, I'm sorry Brad...” 

“Nah it's cool. I knew that you weren't happy, but I didn't think that you'd just up and leave like that. Dave and Joe were pretty worried about you...”

“I know... look, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I just needed to... dunno, clear my head”, Michael answered. Brad's eyes shifted to the blonde standing next to his friend and he raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Yeah, I can see that...”, he grinned.

“It's not what you think”, Michael threw Chester a cautious glance and then fixed his eyes back on Brad. The tall man laughed. “It never is...”, he winked at Michael, who rolled his eyes playfully, shooting Brad a warning glance at the same time. 

Chester was confused. He always thought that he knew a lot about the other man, but now it seemed that he didn't know anything. Why did Michael leave? And what did he leave? Who? And who were Dave and Joe? And why was Brad looking at him with that amused smile on his face?

“So how did the two of you meet?“, Brad asked, eyeing the unknown blonde boy.  
Michael glanced over at Chester, trailing his eyes over the blonde's delicate features pensively.

“We were both lost, and looking for someone to find us, I think.“

Chester looked up at him, a hint of confusion furrowing his brow. Suddenly, he felt stupid for never asking Michael why he started visiting the park day after day.   
He himself used the park to get away, to escape from the reality of his confined life, so it made sense that the other man had done the same. 

“Always such a poet, Michael“, Brad rolled his eyes playfully, not asking any further questions. 

“Again, I'm really sorry for bailing on you guys, I hope you're not angry - “, the dark-haired man mused, obviously trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. 

“Forget it, Shinoda. Joe and Dave were worried, but only because they didn't know where you disappeared to. And because they haven't known you for as long as I have. I know what you're like Spikey, it's always all or nothing with you, and I'm cool with that. Just give one of us a call once in a while, okay?”, the man answered, running a hand through his curly hair lazily.   
“Oh and Rob is pretty pissed at you, but I have no idea why”, he raised his eyebrows in question. “What went down between you two? He's been pissed ever since you left...”

Michael's frown deepened. “I know... that's a thing between me and him, though. It's nothing important anyway.”

“Okay well... it was good seeing you”, Brad gave Michael's shoulder a pat. “Let's hang out sometime, okay? I miss my best friend.” 

“Yeah, I'd like that”, a small smile formed on the dark-haired man's lips as he hugged the taller man goodbye. 

He remained silent for a few seconds, watching him walk off. After Brad had disappeared behind the next street corner, he turned around to the blonde again, only to see the youthful face clouded in confusion, making him look lost, and younger somehow. 

“What's wrong, Chester?”, he asked incredulously. “And don't tell me it's nothing, I can see when you're upset”, he added softly, taking the blonde's hand in his again.

Chester nodded shyly, accepting the touch. He knew he needed to start opening up to Michael.

“I just feel like there's so much I don't know about you... it makes me question what we have. But I don't want to”, he cringed, suddenly regretting his bluntness, but tried to keep his eyes fixed on the taller man.   
The other's face twisted into a thoughtful expression. 

“It's funny you'd say that...”, he clasped Chester's hands in his tightly, not wanting to let go. “Because right now I actually feel like you're the one who know me best.” 

Chester couldn't tear his gaze away from those deep, dark eyes that bored into him as if they could see straight into his soul.   
“Do I?”, he breathed, trying to focus. “I don't know what you do, I don't know where you live – hell, I don't even know your full name.”

Michael laughed, confusing Chester even further. 

“But that's not really what's important, is it? You know me, the real me, and all those other things are just insignificant facts. They don't mean anything, Ches.”

Chester blushed at the pet name, suddenly realizing that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, faces just inches away from each other, holding hands. It almost scared him how lost he could get in Michael's presence, forgetting the world around him. 

He pulled away tentatively, and so did Michael, apparently also just realizing the position they were in. He grinned apologetically as they started moving again, wandering through the streets of Los Angeles aimlessly. 

“If it makes you feel better”, Michael said after a few minutes of silence. “I'm not really doing anything currently, I live about two streets down there”, he pointed his finger to his left dismissively.   
“And my full name is Michael Kenji Shinoda. It's nice to meet you, Chester”, he suddenly stopped, bowing before Chester, pulling an invisible hat off of his head. 

The blonde chuckled at the other's goofiness, mirroring his gestures.

“They call me Chester Charles Bennington. I'm pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Shinoda”, he took Michael's outstretched hand, shaking it in an exaggerated way. They both started laughing, and suddenly, the blonde found himself in the other's arms, being squeezed tightly. 

“You know, you'll have to tell me something about yourself now, too, Mr. Bennington”, Chester felt the taller man's breath against his skin and shivered, pulling away gently.

He was searching his brain for a smooth answer, when suddenly thunder started roaring overhead, and the sky broke apart.


	11. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @ Sunny, Stefuh and Spunky for reviewing ♥ 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the next chapter :)

Suddenly, the clouds seemed to explode, and large, heavy drops of water started beating down on the people in the streets. 

“Shit”, Michael laughed and started running, searching for a place of refuge. Chester took off after him, and reached the doorway of the building closest to them a second later. Panting, they leaned up against the cold, but mostly dry wall of the house. 

Michael started laughing then, and Chester couldn't help but stare at him in awe. How did he manage to always see the positive in every situation? His radiant smile seemed almost glued to his lips. 

“This is crazy”, the darker man laughed, staring up at the sky.   
Chester didn't respond, his mind preoccupied.  
He loved watching Michael laugh.  
His laugh was different. Different from his parents' laugh, different from anyone's laugh.

When the dark-haired man laughed, his entire body laughed with him.  
Was that because he was still young? Adults didn't laugh with their bodies. At least not the ones Chester knew.   
Adults laughed with their mouths, not with their eyes. And least of all with their entire body.  
Their mouths moved, but their eyes didn't change.   
They stayed dull and worried.

But when Michael laughed... his eyes started shining, sparkling.   
Sometimes his cheeks took on a faint tint of pink.  
Sometimes he clapped his hands or slapped his thigh when he was overcome with laughter.  
Or he leaned forward, his whole body rippling with joy.  
Michael was the only person Chester knew that was able to laugh with his whole body, not just with his mouth. 

“What are you thinking about, Ches?”, there it was again... that damned pet name that caused a wild blush to appear on Chester's face. He looked up into the darker man's smiling face.

“Nothing”, he mumbled, barely suppressing a smile.

“Alright then”, Michael grinned. 

He stared out into the street, willing the rain to stop. Chester examined the other's relaxed face, remnants of a smile still showing on his full lips.  
He felt sudden hope sprout in his mind. Stronger than ever before.  
Michael gave him hope. Hope that he would one day be able to laugh with his entire body, too.

“It doesn't look like it's gonna stop raining anytime soon”, Michael remarked.

“So what are we gonna do?”, Chester asked, rubbing his hands up and down his thin arms, clad in just a sweater.

“Are you cold?”, the darker man shot him a worried glance. 

“Yeah.” Chester shivered as a sudden gust of wind caused the rain to hit them head on, soaking the two men.

Michael slapped his forehead. “I can be so slow sometimes”, he laughed. “We can just run over to my place. It just gonna take us two minutes or so, and it's not like we'll stay dry staying here.”

“O-okay”, Chester stuttered, he'd do anything to escape this cold. 

“You know what?”, Michael turned to the other man, his dark eyes shining with excitement.   
“We should take our shoes off”, he grinned, slipping them off while Chester stood there watching him stupidly. “Come on, it's going to be fun”

The dark-haired man looked so excited that Chester couldn't bear refusing him.   
He bent down, untying his shoe laces and pulling his shoes off finally.  
He flinched when his naked feet touched the cold concrete.

“Okay...”, Michael turned toward the street, his eyes fixed on the heavy strings of rain beating down on the few cars rushing by. “Three, two,...” 

“W-what?”, Chester asked, confused. “One... GO!”

And before the blonde boy could grasp what was happening, Michael had grabbed his hand, pulling him into the rain, onto the street. 

They probably looked crazy. Two young men, shoes in hands, hand in hand, sprinting through the heavy downpour. 

Chester felt the asphalt under his toes, the water that splashed up every time his feet hit the ground, covering his jeans with tiny drops of water.   
He felt the other's large, warm hand, intertwined with his own and posing a comforting contrast to the cold liquid beating onto his skin.   
He heard Michael's fast breaths in his ears and sensed his body moving next to him. 

He started laughing unexpectedly, almost startling himself.   
It wasn't his usual, shy laugh.   
It was a loud, honest laugh. He heard Michael join in and the feeling of freedom rushed through him, filling his body like an unexpected high. 

He was almost disappointed when the other one came to a stop.

“Oh my God”, Michael coughed, pushing strands of dripping wet black hair out of his face. He unlocked the door to his apartment building, letting Chester in, but not letting go of his hand. 

After climbing up the stairs, the two men stopped in front of a wooden door. Chester let his mind wander while Michael started looking for his keys in his drenched jeans.   
He asked himself what he would find behind that door.   
Would it be like Michael? Inviting, warm, unique? 

“Chester, you coming?”, the dark haired man's voice rang out from inside the apartment.   
The blond boy blushed and followed the other one quickly.   
Part of him was expecting the apartment to look like his own – big, modern, with sleek furnishing, but ultimately cold.   
He was surprised to find himself in a simple hallway.   
A few jackets and scarves hung on hooks which were mounted to the wall.   
Below, a small shoe rack held a pair of worn-out sneakers, simple black flip flops and a pair of heavy boots. Apart from a brown door mat, there was nothing else to see. 

Michael opened the door on the opposite wall and gestured for Chester to follow him through.   
He complied, stepping into the living area. As the younger of the two walked off, the blonde just stood in the door frame, taking in every detail of the room. 

It was quite big, and seemed to serve a kitchen and living room at the same time.   
The kitchen area was small, the appliances a little out of date, some covered in patches of rust.  
It didn't look run down, just lived in and welcoming, like the rest of the apartment. 

A big brown, slightly tattered couch was placed against the wall to his right, big enough to sleep on.  
In front of it, a large carpet with faded, antique patterns laid on the dark, wooden floor, which was cracked in a few places.   
A small table was placed on top of it. It held a mountain of magazines and books.  
Chester had the urge to come closer, rifle through the books. He shook his head. It would be rude to just waltz into Michael's apartment and start looking through his private belongings. 

He let his gaze wander through the room. Next to the couch, there was another small table with a tv-set.  
A large window covered the wall on the opposite side of the room, flooding it with sunlight, which broke in the crystals of an old chandelier, hanging down from the high ceiling.  
The small pieces of glass reflected the sun light, covering the walls with small, quivering rainbows.   
Chester smiled as the light touched his face, tickling his skin. The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started. Illuminated by the light, little particles of dust danced through the air, twisting and turning as if they moved to a melody no one else could hear. 

On the wall opposite from the couch was a shelf, which looked quite modern with its metal frame and glass shelves. Chester found the seemingly arbitrary mix of furniture odd, but also endearing.   
The shelf was stuffed full of books. Again, Chester had the urge to go over there. To take out every single book and look through it, in hopes of finding out more about the other one. 

“Chester?”, the other one said softly. The blonde boy flinched and turned around. 

Michael stood behind him, his hair and clothing still wet, holding two pairs of sweats and t-shirts for them to change into. 

“This will probably be a little too big for you, but you really have to change so you don't get sick”, he smiled gently as Chester took the items he was offered.   
His eyes followed Michael as he walked over to the kitchen.

He turned his back to dark-haired man, self-consciously pulling his soaking wet hoodie up over his head, letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud. After taking off his white t-shirt as well, Chester started unbuckling his belt when he heard a soft “Holy shit”, from behind him. He spun around, covering his torso with his shirt instinctively.   
Michael stood before him, a look of awe on his face. 

“Let me see please”, he whispered, eyeing the tattoos that adorned the blond's upper arms, chest, and parts of his back. 

Chester bit his lip nervously and looked up into the darker man's face. His tattoos meant so much to him. He had used them as a way to express his most guarded feelings, his secret thoughts.   
The blonde was out of his comfort zone, feeling both physically and mentally exposed in front of the other one.

“Please... you don't have to hide anything from me, Ches...”  
The look of pure affection that filled the darker one's face completely disarmed Chester, and he let his shirt drop to the ground.

He felt uncomfortably conscious of his body as Michael's eyes roamed over every inch of his inked skin.  
“Ches you're... you're beautiful...”, Michael whispered and Chester blushed a deep crimson color. 

“N-no, I'm not”, he quickly picked his shirt up off the ground and tried to pull it back on, but Michael held him back by grabbing both of his wrists and holding them up next to the sides of his face.

“Chester, I mean it. I know that you struggle with accepting yourself the way you are sometimes... but there's no reason, okay? When I say that you're beautiful, I mean it. God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes sometimes...”, he stopped suddenly and blushed. 

Chester was confused. He had never seen Michael at a loss for words, and had certainly never seen him blush before.

“Chester...”, Michael whispered, leaning forward slightly. The blonde's heart rate picked up as the space searating their faces got smaller and smaller. “Michael, what are you - “

Their lips connected and Chester was silenced immediately. In fact, his brain seemed to shut off at the touch, too. 

All he could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, his mind completely blank, while Michael started cautiously moving his lips against Chester's. He let go of the blondes wrists, placing his hands on both sides of his face, letting his dark eyes flutter shut as he leaned further into the kiss. 

The blonde was in shock, his previously frozen mind now flooding with thoughts and emotions, overwhelming him completely. 

He felt panic rise up in the back of his mind and he pushed at Michael's chest, causing him to draw his head back. 

They stared at each other for a second; long enough for Chester to see the hurt that spread across the darker man's features, obscuring his usually sparkling eyes. 

Chester felt the overwhelming urge to say something, to make the pain go away, to make him feel better. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind was racing, clouded with thoughts that he had never thought before; and old thoughts that resurfaced at the most inconvenient moment possible. He needed to be alone now, needed to sort out these thoughts and emotions when Michael wasn't staring at him like a kicked puppy, making him think irrationally. 

He pushed past the other one wordlessly, grabbing his shoes and practically fleeing the apartment.


	12. Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews. This is the last chapter, enjoy ♥

Chapter 12: Easy 

Chester didn't stop running until he reached his apartment, stepping into the hallway and letting the heavy door fall shut behind him with a loud slam. The noise startled him, pulling him out of his adrenaline-induced trance.

His heart rate started slowing, and he suddenly felt so weak, he let his legs give out. He leaned up against the door, letting his head fall back against the cold wood, still panting, trying to regain his breath.   
Even after calming down, Chester felt like his mind was screaming at him, a deafening sound he couldn't ignore.  
He pressed his eyes shut, trying to block out these intrusive thoughts.   
No matter how hard he tried, he could do nothing to calm his inner turmoil.   
Too many thoughts were battling for dominance in his mind, too many feelings that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Over the years, he had gotten used to his life being monotonous. Not that he liked it that way - but it's what he grew accustomed to.  
Ever since he met Michael, his life had started changing - slowly at first, but lately Chester felt like he couldn't keep up. 

This had been such a long day. First, going out of his comfort zone to go to the coffee shop, then meeting Rob, crying, being wrapped up in Michael's strong arms. Meeting Brad, seeing Michael's apartment, and... the feeling of the darker man's soft lips moving on his.   
It was all too much to process.   
How was he supposed to understand all of this, sort it all out?   
He started letting his mind wander, and it became obvious that one emotion dominated the other's - guilt. 

Seeing the light in Michael's dark eyes fade, his face twisting into a mask of regret and pain as Chester pushed him away. Ran from Michael like he meant nothing to him.

The thought of him, standing in the middle of his living room, watching Chester leave with tears welling up in those gorgeous dark brown orbs hit the young man so hard, he felt physically sick.   
What was he so afraid of?  
He was overwhelmed, for sure. But he wasn't disgusted. 

It's just that this had been his first kiss - and it came so unexpectedly that he didn't know how to react.   
He panicked.   
He would have never thought that someone like Michael could like someone like him in that way.

Over the years, he had almost come to terms with his loneliness. He had started to accept that he would always be by himself, that he would never experience true love.   
What happened today scared him. He didn't understand what Michael saw in him.   
He was sure of one thing - he couldn't go back to the life he led before he met Michael. It would kill him after being introduced to this kind of friendship and affection. 

And he was pretty sure he wanted Michael to kiss him again.  
He blushed.

All he wanted now was to be with Michael, to wipe that hurt expression off of his face. To tell him that he cared about him. That he never intended on hurting him.

Of course he was scared.   
But deep inside, he knew that he would never forgive himself if he didn't see where this would go.  
Tomorrow.  
What he needed now was sleep, to let his mind rest and recover from spinning out of control repeatedly. 

 

When Chester started making his way to Michael's apartment the next morning, he was nervous.  
What if the had ruined it? If he had pushed Michael away for good? Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he had decided that Chester wasn't who he originally thought he was. Maybe he didn't want to see him. 

 

Chester rang the doorbell, his hand shaking. On his way over, he had thought about every possible scenario, every way that the other one could possibly greet him. He had pictured Michael slapping him across the face and Michael wrapping him in his arms – but never had it occurred to him that he might not be home. After ringing continuously for a whole minute, Chester was certain that he was either gone or didn't want to see him.

“Fine”, Chester thought as he sat down on the step in front of the door. He could wait. If Michael was indeed gone, he had to come home eventually, and if he didn't want to talk to him, he had to leave the apartment at some point. 

He had drifted so far off into his thoughts that he flinched when he heard footsteps slowly coming up the stairs, and didn't have time to compose himself before someone appeared at the top of the stairs.

It was him.

For a second, Chester could only stare at the young man.

Michael looked so distraught that the blonde felt a sharp pain in his chest as he examined his appearance. The darker man's hair was disheveled, as if he had brushed his hands through it frantically, and dark circles under his eyes made him look infinitely tired.   
At the sight of the young man sitting on the steps to his apartment, though, his face was flooded with overwhelming relief.

“Chester”, he mouthed, rushing over to him, almost stumbling over his own feet in the process.   
“Chester...”, he repeated as he stood in front of the blonde man, obviously not knowing whether to touch him or not. 

“Chester I'm so sorry...”, he mumbled as he sank down to his feet in front of him so their faces were at the same height. “I went to the park because I thought you would be there if... I don't know... and when you weren't there I thought that... Ches, I'm so glad you're here”, he rushed, and Chester stopped his frantic rambling by pressing a finger to his lips. 

They felt so soft under his fingertips, the other's quick and shallow breaths heating up his skin. And all of a sudden, that simple touch seemed to imply so much, seemed so intimate that Chester pulled away quickly, almost as if he had burned himself.

Silenced, Michael looked at the young man he so desperately needed. Searching his face for clues as to where this conversation was going to go.   
“Chester I'm sorry. I shouldn't have overwhelmed you yesterday, okay? I shouldn't have assumed that you feel that way... about me. I don't know what got into me! I didn't plan on kissing you, honestly, I just kinda... I don't know...”, he started rambling again, anxious to explain himself, to make Chester understand.   
“This doesn't have to change anything though, okay? I'm fine with going back to the way we were before, I don't want to lose you...”, he looked at Chester anxiously, waiting for an answer. 

“No”, the blonde whispered, and Michael's face fell immediately, looking absolutely crushed. 

“Ches, please don't-” 

“Do it again”, the blonde requested, and utter confusion spread across Michael's face. 

“Do what again?”

Chester tried to muster up all the courage he possessed and faced the other one, locking their eyes.  
“Kiss me again”, he requested. 

A shuddering breath escaped the darker man's soft lips as he continued to stare at Chester, hope returning the sparkle to his eyes. “Ches are you sure? I don't want to -” 

“Shut up”, the blonde whispered and leaned in closer to his friend. 

A soft, relieved moan escaped Michael's mouth when he pulled Chester close, finally sealing their lips together in a passionate embrace. 

The day before, Chester had been too shocked, too afraid to let himself feel. He was overwhelmed now, too, but in a good way. Michael's lips were incredibly full and soft, moving against his own at a slow, intimate pace.   
The dark-haired man buried his hands in the blonde's soft curls, sighing contently at the touch, letting his long fingers run through the short locks.   
Initially, when Chester had imagined kissing the other one again last night, he had been afraid. Afraid that he wouldn't know what to do, that he would be unable to respond. But kissing Michael felt so natural, so right that he acted purely on instinct, leaning forward into the kiss.   
The other one's taste and smell were intoxicating, making Chester's head spin and his stomach flutter.

And he knew then that he had finally found that one person. That one person that mattered most.  
He felt weightless suddenly, and so relieved that he almost started sobbing right then and there. He pulled away to look at Michael, who in turn leaned in further, not wanting to leave the blonde's lips. For a few moments, they stared at each other, both unable to speak. 

It almost felt like they were back in the park like all those weeks ago, the sun beating down on their heads. 

“Michael...”, Chester breathed, struggling to find a way to explain this hurricane of feeling the other one had set off in his head, making it spin, sending his brain into overdrive. He tried to find the right words, but they evaded him, leaving him a stammering fool. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, pulling Michael's head toward his own, marveling at the boldness of their lips' touches, which felt so soft and gentle, yet fierce and determined. 

The dark-haired man deepened the kiss with a desperate moan, desire clouding his mind. He had wanted this for so long, and the feeling of the blonde's delicate fingers digging into his hair, running down his neck and clawing at his back stripped him of any self-control left in his body. 

Chester pulled his head away, gasping for air.   
The older boy leaned forward and a shiver ran down the blonde's spine when he felt the other's hot lips against his neck, passionately sucking at the soft skin. 

“Michael... stop”, he moaned. Immediately, the lips disappeared and he was pulled into a hug. “I'm sorry Ches, I got carried away.”

“No, don't be” Chester mumbled, his chest still rising and falling at a rapid pace, his face flushed. “But this is all going so fast”, he bit his lips nervously. 

“Ches”, he looked up into those dark, adoring eyes. “I never want you to feel pressured, okay? Whatever you're ready for is more than enough for me.”

Chester nodded, leaning his head against Michael's shoulder. The darker man smiled when he felt the soft curls brushing against his neck. For a moment, neither of them spoke, allowing their breaths to slow down, sitting comfortably in each other's arms.

After a few minutes, Chester broke the silence.

“Why were you lost?”

Michael blinked, thoroughly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Yesterday, when we met Brad... he asked you how we met. And you said that you were lost”, he looked up into the other's dark brown eyes, still a little hazy from their passionate embrace. 

Michael furrowed his brow, looking at the ground, and for a moment Chester thought that he would just ignore his question. 

He cleared his throat. “I was having a hard time, and wanted to get away from everything... and then I saw you, and you looked as lost as I was feeling. I saw myself in you. I knew you needed company, but company that didn't expect anything of you, because that is what I needed, too. Sitting there with you, it felt so natural. No expectations, no commitment, it was easy. And it still is.“ 

A small smirk spread across the younger man's lips. „And it didn't hurt that I thought you were gorgeous from the first moment I laid eyes on you...“  
Chester felt himself blush immediately. He didn't think he would ever get used to Mike's compliments. 

He cleared his throat, pulling himself together. „But what exactly were you trying to get away from?“ 

A deep frown spread across Michael's usually soft features. 

„It's okay Michael...“, Chester whispered, running his fingers along the other's caramel colored skin. 

„You know you can tell me everything...“

Michael cleared his throat. He usually tried not to dwell on the past, knowing full well that burying intrusive thoughts in the back of his mind was a bad coping mechanism. 

„I wasn't running from something... I was running from someone“, he cleared his throat again, and the blonde could clearly see that whatever happened all those months ago was still affecting him.

Chester intertwined their fingers, stroking his thumb over the back of Michael's hand to offer some kind of comfort. 

„I was in a... relationship, I don't even know if that is what it was, but it wasn't... good for me. He wasn't good for me. He was jealous, and controlling, and manipulative. I let it go on for so much longer than I should have. The relationship started changing me, everyone noticed it. I finally broke up with him, but things still didn't get better. I was so unhappy I started questioning everything. I quit college because I realized I wasn't passionate about what I was doing. I stopped seeing my friends, because I felt like no one understood me. I engaged in some pretty unhealthy behavior. I started partying, and drinking. Me and Rob got too drunk one night and ended up...”, Michael looked down at their intertwined hands, cringing at the thought. 

“You know... it didn't mean anything to me, that's why he's angry with me I think. And I was so mad at myself for ruining yet another friendship. Then I moved. But nothing was helping, I felt so stuck in this life I had built for myself. Like I suddenly woke up and realized I wasn't as happy as I had always made myself think I was. I felt like every one was expecting so much of me, controlling me. And I just wanted out.”

Chester couldn't believe what he was hearing. Michael had always seemed so strong to him, like nothing and no one could shake him. He had always seemed like happiness came naturally to him, which Chester had always envied. He squeezed the younger man's hand, trying to show him that he was there, and he was listening. 

His voice trembling slightly, Michael continued. „And this is why I think I needed this... us... even more than you did. I couldn't be alone, but I couldn't jump into anything new either, I was so afraid of this happening again... of someone trying to control me, expecting too much of me. But just talking to you felt so good, it came natural...”, he trailed off, swallowing hard. 

“I understand”, Chester whispered. Nothing else had to be said. This simple understanding of each other, of what the other one needed was enough. 

Michael lifted his trembling hand to the blonde's face, lifting his chin up. His dark, quivering eyes connected with Chester's hazel orbs. The glance they exchanged conveyed everything they didn't need to say out loud.   
Understanding. Comfort. Healing. Passion. 

“I love you”, the darker man whispered, and Chester's heart started beating heavily in his chest. 

“Holy shit”, he mumbled.   
He couldn't believe that this was happening. He had been so sure that he would always be lost, always be lonely.   
Tears of happiness welled behind his closed lids when he felt Michael's soft lips press against his own tenderly, smiling into the kiss. 

 

THE END.


End file.
